


Above One’s Bend

by whatkindoftea (haeli)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Western, I am a little sorry, M/M, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/pseuds/whatkindoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin wants to fuck the Sheriff.  He’s not even sure who the deputy is. Ridiculous cowboy fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heatstroke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WennyT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/gifts).



> I'm so sorry that this is my contribution to Homin Day... There isn't even a "riding" or "horse thighs" pun, which I realize is a missed opportunity. I hope you enjoy this first part! Also heed age difference waring - Changmin is 17 and Yunho is 28.

 

 

The bags of sugar are heavy and weigh Changmin down as he climbs the ladder behind the counter of the small town’s general store.  Wednesdays are long and tiring as the shelves are restocked and orders are carried to the homes of people who have the extra bills to pay for the courtesy.  Changmin shoves the brown sack to the back of the shelf and sighs against the stiffness in his shoulders. 

 

“Changmin!” His father barks from the floor, and the teenager nearly tilts backwards as he’s jarred by the deep voice hollering from below him.  Steadying himself while his heart beats out a harsh staccato, Changmin turns to see his father standing with another man, tall and handsome, and Changmin’s mouth goes dry. 

 

“Hello, Sheriff,” he croaks from his perch, hands gripping the ladder’s wooden sides until he feels a splinter in his palm.  Yunho smiles up at him from under the brim of his hat, and its brightness is nearly enough to send Changmin toppling to the ground, so he holds on more tightly. 

 

“Changmin,” Yunho greets, taking stock of the young man in front of him, and Changmin feels heat climb into his cheeks at the surveying glance, “Seventeen seems to be treating you well.  Bet you cut quite the swell with the ladies,” His smile is easy and warm, teeth straight and well kept.  It’s entirely wholesome, a complete contrast to the way his dark vest pulls tight across a muscled chest, leaving Changmin to imagine the form beneath with raptured enthusiasm. The splinter digs in a mite deeper, and Changmin manages to shake himself from his daze just as his father snorts. 

 

“Not with that attitude of his, walking about with his nose in the air like dirt don’t stick to him,” his father laughs at the observation, fondness undercutting the severity of the words.  He loves his oldest and only son.

 

“Oh?” Yunho chuckles along with the store owner as Changmin clamors down from the top of the shelves.  It’s safer on the ground, and he tries desperately to keep his feet firmly planted there even as Yunho watches him approach the counter, lips still curved and eyes alive with good-natured teasing. 

 

“Well you wouldn’t know, would you, Sheriff? The boy looks up to you too much, wouldn’t want to let on about his poor behavior!” 

 

Now color flares high on Changmin’s cheekbones at his father’s words - embarrassed by their truthfulness.  He has a terrible habit of cutting with this tongue, and the girls in town grew tired of his sharpness a year ago.  They no longer try to slip theirs arms around his or follow him on his runs with giggles and flirtatious remarks.  

 

“Handsome young man, but rude.  How can someone with that much sense be that gumpy?” He hears people say, and it suits Changmin just fine.  He hasn’t been interested in the smartly braided hair or the soft hands and slender bones of the town girls for a long time.  Swallowing guiltily, he glances up at the Sheriff.  He’s found his thoughts more swayed by long legs and the masculine planes of Yunho’s face and body. 

 

“Well, Changmin,” his father’s voice cuts across his scattered thoughts, “The Sheriff here just placed an order for these new bullets - meant to be easier to load or something.  When they come in you’re to let him know straight away, you hear me?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Changmin nods, eyes on Yunho, watching as the Sheriff checks his ragged pocket watch, and Changmin smiles.  Yunho has a terrible sense of time, and constantly needs to remind himself of the hour even if he has nowhere to be. “Can I ask why though?”

 

His father clucks his tongue half-heartedly, but Changmin ignores the sound, eyes still trained on Yunho’s face watching the indulgent twist of his lips, and Changmin pretends that it’s fondness instead.  

 

“There’ve been too many robberies in nearby towns.  I think it’s a band of them,” Yunho reaches down to play with the end of a ball of yarn sitting on the counter, and Changmin frowns at the news.   When he was still mostly a child, another crew of lawbreakers had ravaged the small town.  Stealing from stores like his father’s and destroying others. A few men had died.

 

“Wanna give my boys their best chance at keeping them away from here,” Yunho’s looking right at Changmin, eyes warm and voice a steady, reassurance, like he can read the young man’s thoughts.  He probably can, Changmin muses, he’s probably not the first person in town to think about what happened five years ago. 

 

“Well, the bullets should be here soon enough,” Changmin’s father reassures the lawman, “Give it a month on the outside.  I’ll send Changmin here down to you as soon as they show.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Yunho tips his hat at the two of them, but gives Changmin a final grin that has his heart climbing up his throat and his stomach dropping to his knees.  Changmin wipes the sweat from his hands as the sheriff leaves the shop, and it’s only the proximity of his father and his own shame that keeps his arousal at bay.

 

“Lucky that man decided to stay,” his father muses as Changmin climbs back up the ladder, half embarrassed at his own quick descent.  “Miracle he showed up when he did.”

 

Changmin can only hum noncommittally in the back of his throat in case his voice breaks in answer.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yunho allows himself one vice - a single whisky at the very end of the day, when he’s on his way back home from the sheriff’s office.  He drinks it slowly and rarely speaks to anyone.  It’s his moment of peace amid the near constant pains of trying to be a good man while holding office and having power.  

 

The fire of the liquid still sits heavily on his tongue as he leaves the saloon, the tension in his shoulders relaxing under the alcohol’s insistence. He has no horse to untie as he walks out onto the wooden porch of the establishment, but he pauses to look down the street anyway.  

 

Changmin is out front of the general store, working on the hitching rail.  His are sleeves rolled up, no jacket or vest in sight, and Yunho keeps to the shadows for a moment longer to watch.  The setting sun plays across Changmin’s tanned skin and dark hair, lighting him up like a painting, and Yunho feels heat lick slowly up the back of his neck as Changmin sweats through the light colored cotton.  It’s impossible to ignore the way the muscles pull at the cloth, the dampness sticking the material to his skin. Definitely not thirteen any longer. 

 

It’s almost too easy to remember when Yunho had first met the young man - barely more than a child and terrified like the other townspeople.  Scared for their livelihood as groups of discharged soldiers rolled through the frontier, stealing and drinking and razing as they went.  He remembers running into the general store as a gang of them left, and finding Changmin hiding behind the counter, eyes huge with relief as the sight of Yunho, realizing that someone was going to help him.  His eyes are one thing that hasn’t changed as he’s grown, Yunho realizes, they’re still just as striking as they were, just as lively and innocent.  

 

Yunho’s stomach twists when he catches his thoughts, and it jolts him from his spot in the shade, forcing him along his way. He tries his hardest to blink away the feelings of being old and lecherous and over wrought with desire for the boy just across the street.  

 

His road home is dusty and hot, the walk doing nothing to diminish the want humming beneath his skin, itching and desperate, thoughts turning on Changmin and his curt words and long limbs and chapped lips.  Yunho closes the door behind him as he enters his small house, a one-room cabin, and peels off his own vest, tie, and shirt, slick with sweat from the walk and the day’s work.  

 

Collapsing on his bed, Yunho tries not to think of the younger man, tries to push the shameful thoughts aside, but they’re more persistent than usual.  It’s not the first time he’s looked at Changmin with less than pure intent, but it’s so much worse after learning that Changmin doesn’t dally with the girls in the town.  

 

“The boy looks up to you too much,” the words echo in his memory, and it’s awful knowing that the quiet admiration is something special, something Changmin reserves just for him.

 

With a groan, Yunho reaches into his breeches and tugs on his half hard cock.  

 

“Oh fuck,” he curses and flushes as he strokes and jerks himself off to thoughts of Changmin.  Changmin and his too big eyes, and his sinful-wide mouth.  Changmin touching him, fingers running up his chest and pulling on his hair as he dips down to bite at Yunho's neck.  The boy’s hands would be worn from work at the general store, but not rough like his own - no calluses from hard rides and shooting pistols and three years of war.  Yunho lifts his hips and shoves his breeches further down as the pants become too constricting.  He can smell himself, the tang of sweat from a long day and a layer of muskier arousal. He gasps into the stale air as he closes his eyes and grips tighter as his fantasy rushes up at him.  

 

The sounds Changmin would make as Yunho kisses him and pulls his clothes off. Yunho’s breath shatters as the images flick through his mind, and the head of his cock spits precome as he works himself harder.  His grip grows slick with it. What would Changmin’s gasps sound like when Yunho touches him like this - would he try to trap them behind his teeth? Yunho bites his lip, increasing his pace and thrusting lightly into his hand. Or would Changmin be loud, different to the quiet, watchful way he acts around Yunho now?   Yunho twists his hand beneath the crown and hopes that it’s the latter.  He hopes that Changmin wouldn’t be able to help himself, that the young man would cry out as Yunho opens him up and takes him, and drowns them both in pleasure. 

 

Yunho wants, wants with a reckless selfishness that leaves him shaking.  He wants to hold and touch and feel Changmin.  He wants to lick slowly into his mouth and taste his cries.  He wants to take everything from the young man and give him just as much in return.  

 

Yunho arches back bending away from his cot as his climax crushes his lungs and takes his breath.  The thought of Changmin shaking beneath him, shaking because of him, pushes him over the edge and into dizzying pleasure.  His seed streaks across his stomach and up onto his chest in spurts, sticky and shameful even in the aftershocks.  

 

Fingers covered in spunk, Yunho curls onto his side and stares at his hand, shocked at himself and what he now realizes he could be capable of given the chance.  The open, endless want he has for the younger boy is more intense than even he realized.

 

“The boy looks up to you,” he’s disgusted with himself, and pretends like it will last longer than the night. 

 

* * *

  

 

His lightest linen shirt has soaked through by the time Changmin reaches the Sheriff’s office, the buttoned collar feeling too tight against his heated skin.  Changmin is careful not to crumple the receipt in his left hand as he pulls at the constraining fabric, mind halfway back to his father’s store where a cool, sweet drink will be waiting after he lets Yunho know that his bullets have arrived.  

 

The sheriff’s office is small and over heated - the darkened wood pulling the sunlight to it like bees to honey, and Changmin can feel the warmth radiating before he even enters.  He hopes this doesn’t take long, although he’s loath to wish away any moments he can have with the older man - each stitch of time something to treasure. 

 

He pushes through the worn wooden door, not bothering to knock - no one knocks to come see the Sheriff - even if his visit lies a little outside of normal hours as the sun has started to move towards the Western horizon.  But Yunho is always warm, always welcoming.  It’s one of the reasons why he’s kept the job for more than three years - people like him, and he likes people. 

 

Scowling at the thought of all the others who must vie for the sheriff’s attention each day, Changmin frowns and forgets to call out as he enters, forgets to start right into his father’s message - that the bullets won’t cost nearly as much because as the store’s owner he’s happy to incur some of the costs as part of his civic duty.  But when Changmin bothers to look up, he wishes he had knocked.  He wishes he had been shouting from half a block away because he hasn’t a prayer of forming words now. 

 

Yunho is walking back to his desk, completely bare from the waist up.  The heat of the day must have gotten to him, Changmin thinks wildly as he feels himself try to swallow around the new dryness of his throat.  It’s not uncommon to see the Sheriff in his loose cotton undershirt with vest and coat discarded, but Changmin has never seen him undressed like this - hasn’t seen anyone this unclothed since he was a child and shared a bath with his cousins.

 

Yunho hasn’t seen him yet, too intent on choking down the vile coffee his deputy had made earlier that afternoon, and Changmin tries to slip away before he’s notice.  Stepping back carefully, eyes still trained on Yunho’s naked torso, his foot lands confidently on a creaky board, the wood protesting beneath his weight.  He feels the color drain from his face as Yunho turns his head towards the sound, likely expecting a member of his posse, but instead finding Changmin. 

 

“Hello, Changmin,” Yunho greets casually, but Changmin can’t muster a response.  All he can focus on is the muscled curve of Yunho’s chest as he stands in profile, face turned towards Changmin in expectation.  The only words in Changmin’s head are ones like “want” and “taste.”

 

“Changminnie?” Yunho calls again, worry creasing between his brows, “Are you helping your father deliver something?” The nickname, affectionate and familiar, pierces through his haze more than anything Yunho says, and Changmin feels momentarily disgusted with himself.  How depraved can he be that the mention of his father does nothing to dull the desire thrumming low and dangerous in his belly?  He can’t will away his arousal at the sight of the Sheriff’s body and the sound of his voice. 

 

“I... The bullets,” He tries to say something, anything, but he can’t make a coherent thought that’s not layered with his own want. 

 

“Changminnie,” Yunho starts to move towards him, hands outstretched, concern painted over his features, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

 

No, he’s not all right, and Changmin continues to gape like an addle-headed fool as Yunho gets closer. 

 

Crossing the space of the small square office in a handful of strides, Yunho reaches Changmin and steers him towards his desk, hand moving to touch his forehead as the younger man sits in the worn chair.  The press of his hand is agony against Changmin’s skin, spiking his lust higher, twisting it into a tight knot that’s impossible to ignore.  It’s usually easy, Changmin thinks desperately, to put aside the constant want when his deputies and the admiring members of their town surround Yunho.  But now, with his bare skin so close and his hands cupping Changmin’s face, it’s like trying to ignore a white-hot brand.

 

Yunho’s mouth keeps moving, asking him questions, but Changmin can’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears like the sound of a locust hoard.  His eyes trail down, falling away from Yunho’s mouth, and he realizes just how close the Sheriff’s chest is - all he would need to do is lean in and take what he wants. 

 

It’s a moment of madness, brought on by heat or five years of yearning - Changmin isn’t sure which, but he leans forward as Yunho continues to fuss, and latches his mouth onto the Sheriff’s nipple and sucks. 

 

It’s better than he could fathom, Yunho’s skin beneath his tongue, mind skittering with thoughts of “soft” and “yes” and “more” as he loses himself in the taste of Yunho, in the feel of him hovering so close. 

 

A noise made over his head brings him whipping back to his senses, and he moves away in a rush of horror he realizes what he has done.  The Sheriff - he had touched the Sheriff.  Not even touched, he thinks in a wave of nausea, eyes shut tightly against the hideous reality - defiled.  Everything is made worse by the erection straining against the front of his breeches, the thrust of his cock a condemnation.  He’s going to die; he’s going to rot in their town’s tiny jail cell until he expires. 

 

A soft exhale near the top of his head has Changmin looking up in resignation to find the Sheriff staring down at him with heavy lidded eyes.  It can’t mean anything other than disappointment; Changmin could not be more certain, regardless of his inexperience. 

 

Trying to clamor out of the chair, apologies spill from his mouth in garbled spurts.  “I’m so sorry! I need to - I just - I’m sorry I didn’t mean it, and -” Changmin’s mouth is running away from him, and the only other words his brain churns out are curses, aimed at himself and his own moral weakness.  Completely unhelpful. 

 

“If you could just,” he tries to push Yunho away, but he falls back against the wooden chair as Yunho crowds against him and grips the chair-back, dragging it and Changmin until they’re flush against the wall. Changmin wishes he hadn’t done that - there must be a less cruel punishment because seeing Yunho’s arms work and muscles coil beneath the effort just makes him hotter, drives him further from his right mind.  

 

It gets worse as Yunho crouches down, nearly in Changmin’s lap as his long legs almost-straddle the boy in the chair.  They’re eye level, and Yunho’s mouth is even more distracting than his chest.  Changmin hears himself whimper at the back of his throat as Yunho presses even closer. 

 

Yunho’s mouth moves, and Changmin is assaulted by a dark rasping growl he has never heard before.  So dissimilar to the pleasant and lilting voice he’s accustomed to hearing at the store, instead it’s scratched with hunger and lust and countless other things that Changmin is too terrified to name yet.

 

The Sheriff exhales softly, and the breath dances across Changmin’s lips.  “I didn’t think you were interested, Changminnie.” 

 

Changmin hears the words, but he can’t process them.  He’s tongue-tied, incoherent, and he doesn’t know where to look.  His gaze dances over the Sheriff’s eyes, to his mouth, then slides to his chest, and maybe even lower.  A soft sound pushes passed his lips instead of a reply. 

 

Yunho look uncertain, caught between Changmin’s lack of words but the abundance of action moments ago.  He remembers Changmin’s age, remembers what it was like to be seventeen and so pent up that you thought you would crawl from your skin if you didn’t find a release, any release.  

 

Yunho begins to back away, and the movement galvanizes Changmin.  He grabs at the older man, locking both hands about the sheriff’s retreating wrists and forces himself to speak. “No, don’t go! I’m sorry! I’m not sure-”

 

And the soft look in the sheriff’s eyes returns again, and he leans in closer as Changmin continues to babble apologies. 

 

“I’m sorry I did that, Sheriff, please forgive me! I never meant harm -” But suddenly he can’t speak as lips are pressed against his, soft and strong.  Changmin registers with a dizzying jolt that the sheriff is kissing him, the man he’s been fantasizing about from the time he was thirteen is kissing him, and he leans into it with unhindered enthusiasm until the sheriff pulls away.  A noise of discontent escapes before Changmin can curb it, but he doesn’t want to stop. 

 

Like a mind reader, the sheriff comes back and rests his lips against Changmin’s.  He doesn’t use any pressure, sticking to feather light touches, and when he speaks Changmin can feel the words better than he can hear them. 

 

“I think we're a little passed the point of formalities now, dont you? Call me by my name, Changmin."

 

“Yunho,” Changmin whispers numbly, and he says it again until feeling comes rushing back, and then he keeps saying it, the last vowel trailing off into a gasp as the sheriff - no, Yunho - presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth, and then another until their lips are open against each other, wet and more wonderful than Changmin would have ever believed possible. 

 

He would have stayed like that forever with Yunho hovering over him, losing himself in the press of lips and soft wet sounds, but the rest of the town had other ideas. 

 

A cacophony of shouts cascades over the building, and Yunho pulls away with a barely muffled groan, his lips red and eyes glinting with desire and disappointment.  Changmin can’t stop the pleased hum that escapes him at the sight, before he tries to scramble up as the shouts get louder. 

 

“Sheriff! They’re here!” Someone who sounds like the barkeep, calls from the other side of the door, and Changmin just manages to put the desk between himself and Yunho before the door bursts open.  

 

Still shirtless, Yunho gestures for the man to continue as he gathers his clothes, and no one asks any questions.   

 

 _They can't even imagine it_ , Changmin thinks as he takes a couple of steadying breaths and surreptitiously fixes his hair. 

 

“Where?” Yunho finishes buttoning his undershirt and shrugs back into his vest, badge clinking against buttons.

 

“Just on the other side of the tracks,” the man gestures east, “They’re likely setting up camp for the night.”

 

“We could surprise them in the dark,” Yunho mutters, “but they must know we’d come after them.”  He pauses, brow furrowed and arms crossed as he stares hard at the opposite wall.  Changmin watches quietly from the corner as Yunho slides into the mentality of a soldier, back straightening and eyes hardening.  

 

“Well, there’s no other way about it,” he decides, reaching for his pistols hanging from the wall and strapping them around his waist.  “We move tonight.  Changmin,” he glances at Changmin, no longer flustered and disoriented by want, “You said the bullets had arrived?” 

 

The bullets - Changmin had completely forgotten.  “Yes, they’re at the shop.”

 

“Perfect,” Yunho pulls his hat on as the last piece, “Have my boys meet me there.  We’re getting this done tonight.” 

 


	2. Lamp Light

 

The night drags on as Changmin waits in the General Store.  The shop is mostly dark, lamps remaining unlit as the hours drag on, and he continues to worry about Yunho.  Yunho off in the darkness, trying to snatch a band of outlaws with anyone trained and stupid enough to follow him. 

 

Changmin perches on the stool behind the counter and keeps waiting.  The street outside is quiet, until suddenly it’s not and someone’s in the middle of the road whooping and firing off their pistol, the dry crack of the shot nearly knocking Changmin out of his seat with shock.  

 

The entire town crowds onto their little main street at the noise, shouting and hollering, and Changmin can’t understand a word.  Yunho is nowhere to be seen, and fear wraps itself around Changmin’s throat and threatens to squeeze the life out of him.  He grabs the first person he comes across, the woman who sometimes sells Changmin’s younger sisters the sweet bread she bakes for a penny. 

 

“What happened? Where’s Yun- the Sheriff?” Changmin just manages to keep to the formalities.  Hands shaking, eyes wide, he tries to sound the right amount of worried. 

 

“The gang is in the jail now,” her relief is palpable, and it pulls a grin from Changmin even as he continues to fret over Yunho, “but the Sheriff got in the way of a stray bullet.”  Changmin’s stomach twists and threatens to empty itself, and the woman takes in his sudden pallor, “He’s alright! Back at his cabin though, poor man.  Doctor should be finishing up with him soon. But he’ll probably need -”

 

Changmin doesn’t wait around to hear the rest.  His shoes slam hard onto the dirty road as he tears off down the street, heart hammering with the beat of his strides.  _He’s okay_ , he reminds himself even as he pushes his legs to move faster and burns the air from his lungs as he tries to get to the plain wooden door of Yunho’s home before anyone can notice where he’s gone - before someone else can think to check on Yunho. 

 

Dust and dirt kicks up into the air as Changmin slides to a stop, slipping the last two feet until his hand presses against the smooth surface of the door, and suddenly he’s not sure he should be there. 

 

 _He kissed you and now you think you have to come and, what? Save him?_ , he berates himself even as he watches his hand rise and rap hard against the wood, the sound a sharp crack, almost lost amidst the final echoes of another pistol being shot off down by the celebrations.  

 

His breath is ragged, and he’s covered in dirt, still wearing the same shirt from earlier this evening - it’s stained and wrinkled and Changmin knows he looks like hell, but it’s too late to do anything about it when the door swings inward.  Yunho looks tired, a little roughed up, but nothing too bad. 

 

“You’re okay,” relief crashes down on Changmin, harder than the fear when he heard Yunho was hurt.

 

“Just a graze,” Yunho smiles down at him, looking tired and rumpled himself. Changmin sees the bandages wrapped around Yunho’s upper arm - sleeve torn away where the doctor cut it at the shoulder.  

 

“I-” Changmin feels stupid now, sprinting across town over a grazed bullet - not the worst he’s seen himself by far, “I’m glad you’re alright.”  Feet shuffling, Changmin thinks of turning away with a wave, but Yunho stops him. 

 

“You were worried,” his fingers brush through the hair that hangs loose around Changmin’s face.

 

Air shudders behind Changmin’s lips as he takes a shaky breath, “Of course.” 

 

Yunho smiles, happy and bright, and it’s severything Changmin has wanted for himself.  It leaves him dizzier than the run, head spinning and hands shaking all over again.  

 

“Changminnie, come here,” Yunho reaches out for him, left arm slow and stiff, and Changmin lets himself be pulled inside the dimly lit cabin because it’s exactly where he wants to be. It’s quiet and homey and disastrously messy, he notes the clothes and various items strewn about the small room with a wrinkle of his nose, and Yunho laughs.

 

“Figures you’d be neat,” he kicks at a stool sitting uselessly in the middle of the room, “Gotta keep that big store of your dad’s nice and clean, huh?”

 

“Don’t. Don’t mention my father,” Changmin winces, turning to look at the older man, “Please,” he adds as an after thought, not sure how casual he can be or what’s expected of him now that he’s on the other side of the door. 

 

“You won’t hear it from me again,” Yunho promise, smile crooked and eyes dancing.  Changmin knows he doesn’t stand a chance.  He steps in closer with a quiet noise, hands clenched tight into fists at his sides as he closes the distance between them.  He still can’t make himself touch Yunho.  Perfect, handsome, wonderful Yunho - Sheriff Yunho who’s admired by everyone but decided to look at Changmin. 

 

Yunho watches carefully, expression shifting into something serious, “Changmin, what do you want?” 

 

He knows he needs to answer this time, with real words, not pitiful little sounds and stuttered apologies, “You, if - if that’s alright?” 

 

Hands, calloused but beautiful, slide up his arms, and send a shiver down Changmin’s spine as Yunho pulls him close, tucking the teenager’s body against his broad chest, and he leans down to press his lips into Changmin’s tangled, dirty hair, “Of course it’s alright.”

 

It’s easier to confess when he’s hidden against Yunho’s skin, “I don’t know what to do though.” 

 

He feels the little exhales against the top of his head as Yunho chuckles, “It’s a good thing I do then, I suppose,” he carefully draws Changmin back so they can see each other’s faces, “Will you be able to listen?”

 

“Yes,” it’s more confident than Changmin feels; the tremors start at the base of his spine, excitement and nervousness a hard thrumming energy, and his arms burn where Yunho’s still touching them.  He wants Yunho to touch him everywhere, and he’s going to get his wish, he realizes with a piercing happiness as Yunho walks them back towards the bed in the corner of the room. 

 

“One moment,” Yunho sits Changmin on the covers before he turns to grab the oil lamp and place it by the bed, “I need to turn this down, okay Changmin? I’ll need the oil to be a little less hot.” 

 

“I wanted to see you,” Changmin huffs, a little disappointed.

 

“You’ll want to be able to walk tomorrow too,” Yunho shakes his head, and Changmin laughs, pitched and nervous.  “It’s okay - I’m going to take care of you,” Yunho promises as the lamp dies down, until there’s just a soft light from the bedside, and Yunho’s cast in shadow.  

 

The rest of Changmin’s senses sharpen as he blinks against the darkness of the room.  The cabin smells like hand soap and damp earth - like the day after it rains, he realizes with an anxious jolt as Yunho slides next to him on the bed.  He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, doesn’t know what to do with himself, but Yunho turns him slowly and pulls him forward, up into his lap, and Changmin settles against Yunho’s strong chest, breathing in the smell of Yunho as it tangles with the other scents of his home. 

 

“I’m going to kiss you again,” the words rumble through Yunho’s chest, and Changmin turns his head so he can catch Yunho’s lips first, surprised at his own boldness.  Yunho laughs quietly into his mouth, faint and lovely, and Changmin chases the sounds by pressing in harder.  

 

The darkness of the room slides up against them, making Changmin search Yunho out with his hands and nose and tongue, greedy for a taste of the older man, and Yunho is more than willing to give it, gasping when Changmin rises up on his knees to get a better angle, enthusiasm getting the best of him.   Yunho’s gasps taste like rain too, Changmin thinks as he licks slowly at a gorgeous bottom lip, and Yunho moans.  

 

A hand winds up into the back of his hair, fingers gently playing with the long strands and Changmin arches back into the touch, the movement brushing his hips against Yunho’s stomach, the pressure an unexpected jolt, unbalancing him in the best way.  Not thinking, he grabs onto Yunho’s shoulders fingers digging into muscle as he tries to ground himself, and Yunho sucks in a pained breath, pulling away from Changmin to wince. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Changmin gasps, voice horse and strained - completely different from any other moment in his life, “I’m so sorry, are you alright?” 

 

“Yes,” Yunho’s hand still rests at the base of Changmin’s skull, fingers massaging gently, “It’s okay.  Now, come back here.” 

 

Yunho lets Changmin get comfortable, with the darkness with the space with everything around him, and Changmin wants to kiss Yunho forever for being so gentle.   By the time he can see the outline of the chimney in the opposite corner of the room, they’re both naked, shirts and pants pulled off with a slow impatience that Changmin thinks only Yunho would be capable of accomplishing.   He’s still hovering over Yunho, still with a sense of control, and he loves Yunho for giving him that too. 

 

“I’m going to use the oil now,” Yunho whispers against Changmin’s temple, tasting the sweat beading by the younger man’s hair, and Changmin nods, guessing what’s coming based on the things he’s heard from the men who visit the whorehouse in the next town over.  A hard prick needs someplace to go.  

 

“I can handle it,” he promises.

 

Yunho’s smile is just as bright against the side of his face, “I know you can.” 

 

One hand reaches into the the oil lamp while the other steadies Changmin’s hips.  Pushing himself up with his thighs again, Changmin tenses, hands resting carefully on either side of Yunho’s neck, terrified of moving too low and hurting his injury again. 

 

“Relax, Changminnie,” Yunho presses hot kisses against Changmin’s chest, lips and teeth grazing skin from collar bone and lower as Changmin shakes with a potent combination of nerves and anticipation.  

 

One, two deep breathes is all Changmin can manage as he feels a slick finger circle his entrance and he jolts away from the sensation.  A small noise trapping itself in his throat.  Yunho stills immediately, eyes careful as they watch Changmin’s face above his own.   

 

“Do you want to stop?” 

 

One, two. Again.  “No,” Changmin shakes his head so Yunho can see he means it before curling in a little closer, arms going around Yunho’s neck.  He doesn’t jerk away the next time he feels Yunho’s finger brush between his cheeks and press gently against his entrance, but he can’t help but tense as it pushes in to the second knuckle, the burn shocking and arousing all at once.  

 

“Is this okay?” Yunho talks him through it, and instead of talking Changmin rocks back against the intrusion, hoping that if they just keep going it will start to feel less strange and more like how he imagines it would be.   More sparks, less sticky and awkward. 

 

“Sex is messy, Changminnie,” Yunho reads his mind, and the hand he’s not using to slowly stretch Changmin open traces patterns across the smooth skin of the boy’s back, “Forget what you think you know about it for now.” 

 

“You mean it doesn’t feel good,” Changmin starts to whine, but gasps once again as Yunho starts to tease at the rim stretched around his finger.

 

“No,” Yunho rolls his hips up so Changmin can feel his erection for the first time and Changmin keens as a second finger is added, “It can feel amazing.”  Yunho is maddening and slow,  the burn no worse but no better and Changmin growls with frustration, impatient to feel everything. 

 

It stays slow, and eventually Changmin starts to rock back more frequently, trying to take Yunho’s fingers deeper as he presses is face into the crook of Yunho’s neck and shoulder, biting and kissing the skin there, getting drunk off of the taste and slow touches to his back and thighs.  He wishes for the hundredth time that the light were a little brighter so he could see the way Yunho’s brows furrow in concentration and the way the muscles moved beneath his skin as he manipulates Changmin with his hand on his hip and the smallest words in his ear.  

 

Yunho’s breaths are clipped and harsh, and, curious, Changmin unwinds an arm from around Yunho’s neck to reach between them.  Yunho’s not expecting the touch, panting when Changmin’s fingers wrapping carefully around his length and pull gently, testing the weight and feel of it against his palm.  The quiet sounds Yunho makes against his mouth as he pulls Changmin down for another kiss have Changmin tightening his grip and stroking harder, tracing a nail around the head like he does for himself, and Yunho hisses, pulling away with a gasp.  

 

It isn’t until then that Changmin realizes Yunho is no longer stretching him. 

 

“Are you ready?” Fingers brush against Changmin’s hip bones, and Changmin shivers at the touch, letting go of Yunho’s cock to trail his hands lower, fingers brushing through the coarse hairs at the base for a moment before giving Yunho an unamused look, “I’ve wanted to do this since I was fourteen.” 

 

“Well in that case,” Yunho smiles again, lifting Changmin an inch or so, so he can settle back against the wall behind the head of the bed, Changmin still splayed in his lap.  

 

Tipping forward against Yunho’s chest, Changmin curses softly, “Christ.”  Yunho’s skin is hot against his own, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to cover them both, the air inside the cabin warm and still.  Yunho slides his hands around Changmin’s hips to squeeze his ass.

 

With a yelp, Changmin rocks forward, and glares at Yunho in the darkness when the older man laughs.   Narrowing his eyes, Changmin rocks back, feels Yunho’s erection press between his cheeks, and laughs himself at Yunho’s garbled exhale.  Yunho is heavy and thick against his skin,   but Changmin craves more. 

 

“Yunho,” Changmin blows a lock of hair out from in front of his eyes so he can give Yunho an annoyed look, “I _want_ this.”

 

“Okay, Changminnie,” hands push and maneuver Changmin’s hips just so, until he’s positioned where Yunho needs him.  He can feel the head of Yunho’s cock press against his entrance, thick and slicked with the lamp oil, and Changmin exhales slow and steady.  

 

“Take whatever you can,” Yunho stares up at him, a little desperate, but Changmin doesn’t doubt for a moment that Yunho would stop at a word, and it gives Changmin the confidence to start sinking down on Yunho with a strangled whine.  

 

“Stop,” Yunho’s fingers claw into Changmin’s thighs, “You’re too tight, you’re going to hurt yourself and I’m going to finish way too soon.” 

 

Yunho’s voice sounds strained, and Changmin grins, taunting and over confident as he forces himself down the rest of the way, heedless of the warnings Yunho splutters beneath him.

 

“God’s sake,” Yunho swears, back arching, and Changmin takes no small joy in being the reason for the bend in the man’s spine, for the way Yunho’s mouth gasps open as he takes him all the way down.  It burns like a fucking fire, melting Changmin’s bones and leaving him shaking and unsteady as he settles against Yunho’s hips.  

 

“I need - If you could just,” Changmin hisses, eyes blinking shut for a few moments as his mind tries to sort out the sensations of being so full and so stretched around Yunho, but he doesn’t keep them closed for long.

 

Laid back against the bed, arm sore but eyes smoking and dark, Yunho is more than what Changmin could have ever imagined in all of his over heated teenage fantasies.  The way his mouth parts on a strained breath and his chest heaves, deep and even as he waits for Changmin to give him permission has Changmin dizzy with something like power and delight.  That he has Yunho beneath him, waiting on his word, is miraculous and better than anything. 

 

A roll of his hips and Changmin gasps as Yunho's cock pushes in deeper and pulls harder at his entrance, stretching him even wider - and Changmin knows he’s going to ache the next day but it doesn’t stop him from rocking again and listening for the strangled moan that forces its way up from Yunho’s chest.  

 

“Like this, Changmin,” Yunho grips Changmin’s hips harder, and lifts him off his lap carefully, and Changmin’s gasp garbles in this throat, at the feeling of the thick length pulling out, reigniting the burn in a pleasant way - less sharp and more simmer and entirely wonderful.  Changmin sinks back down and does it again, riding Yunho cautiously, getting a sense for what feels good and listening to the sounds Yunho makes between encouragements.  

 

But Changmin’s seventeen and isn’t sure how to not be completely selfish - he thinks that might be something he can learn later - instead he fucks down harder, crying out at the way Yunho’s hips thrust upwards to meet him, his dick stabbing upwards and forcing all of the air from Changmin’s chest.  

 

“Do that again,” he demands, running his hands up Yunho’s torso, tracing ribs and stomach lines before settling them against Yunho’s chest.  “But... just more.”  He searches for the words and finds he doesn’t have them - maybe that’s something he needs to learn too. Something Yunho could teach him. 

 

Yunho’s legs are shaking as he brings them up, the tops of his thighs pressing a hot line against Changmin’s lower back, and Yunho pushes against the bed and thrusts harder, hands still tight on Changmin’s hips to hold him in place, and it’s exactly what Changmin wanted.  

 

“Yes,” he moans, low and long into the single room.  Everything feels so hot and full and wonderful and he never wants it to end, except finishing might be all he wants to happen.  “Yes, Yunho, more - just like that.  Please, Yunho,” and Yunho gives him exactly what he asks for, thrusting himself up into Changmin’s tight, unbearable heat, with a desperate sound spilling over his lips. 

 

Changmin grinds down against Yunho’s hips, searching for something - he’s not quite sure what - but he tries to find it somewhere between Yunho’s moaned renditions of his name and the brush of calloused hands up his thighs. 

 

“Touch yourself,” Yunho growls out, voice edged sharp and needy, and Changmin feels a jolt of pride at being able to wreck the lawman so thoroughly, “Like you do in your own room.  I want to see you.”

 

His own dick is hard and spitting precome against his stomach, and Changmin wraps his hand around the length, stroking desperate and fast.  Desperate and short of breath, Changmin presses a hand harshly into Yunho’s uninjured shoulder to find balance as he rides down hard and shudders with each thrust and meeting of hips, slick sounds filling the little room as he brings himself closer.

 

“This is - I don’t even,” Changmin babbles into the air, mind whirling with the way Yunho’s cocks splits him open wide and trembling over his lap.

 

“You wanted this,” Yunho growls out, encouraging Changmin with hands on his ass, gripping him  so Changmin can feel the way each rock and thrust stretches him further, the burn still a slow heat that rattles his breath and makes his legs shake.  

 

“For so long,” he cries out as Yunho gets a little rougher, and Changmin pushes back earnestly, giving as good as he gets because he can tell that Yunho wants it too with the way Yunho’s neck stretches back and the tiny pleading sounds he’s making, “Wanted you underneath me, wanted to watch you like this.  So undone, so ruined and all because of me.” And that’s the truth - Changmin wanted to be able to do this to the perfect, loved Yunho.  Wanted to know that he could be ruined in the same way Changmin felt every day watching Yunho from the window of his father’s store - the way he felt at night when he’d bring himself off in the dark to thoughts of Yunho’s plush mouth and strong thighs. 

 

But now he doesn’t have to imagine. Yunho groans, loud and abandoned, and the sound is so sweet that it almost pushes Changmin over the edge. 

 

“Changmin,” Yunho fucks into him again and again, and Changmin never wants it to stop, but he can feel the end rushing up at him, pulling him down and drowning him under its brutal weight.  

 

A stuttered laugh escapes Changmin, and he tries to smother it against Yunho’s lips, leaning down to lick his way into Yunho’s mouth as he works himself harder, desperate for the mind shaking pleasure he can taste on the tip of his tongue.  Yunho drives up into him hard, hitting a spot that has Changmin’s mouth going slack on a cry, pleasure slicing through his veins as Yunho keeps the angle. 

 

“Nearly, Yunho, almost there,” he promises against the man’s mouth, faltering in his rhythm as he clenches down on the length inside him, and kissing Yunho again for the way the man’s eyes flutter shut at the tightness.  Their noses brush as Changmin hovers, lips occasionally brushing together the share a breath or a moan when Changmin’s rocked forward by the fucking. 

 

All it takes is Yunho’s nails raking over his thighs and four more rough thrusts for Changmin’s back to arch, pleasure bending his spine and twisting his bones as he comes all over himself and Yunho, painting both of their chests as he cries out, Yunho’s name a strangled praise on his lips as he does.  

 

He’s shaking and gasping as Yunho fucks up more, chasing his own orgasm, and Changmin tries to focus on rolling his hips as best he can, as he feels himself tighten around Yunho’s dick each time he pulls out, leaving just the head stretching open his entrance.  Dazed and buzzing from his own climax, Changmin drinks in the sight of Yunho’s face; his eyes shut and bottom lip - that unfair bottom lip - held tight between teeth as he finally stills and empties himself inside Changmin, coating him with his come, and Changmin shudders with him, the sensation strange but not unwelcome because it’s Yunho, and he wants Yunho to be his, and this seems like a good a way as any to make that mark.  

 

Changmin collapses entirely against Yunho’s chest, trying to avoid the grazed arm, as he falls against Yunho’s chest, wincing as a soft cock slips out.  Yunho’s trying to catch his breath, and Changmin presses a kiss to the tender space where jaw and ear meet. 

 

“We should do that again,” he finds himself saying because that’s easier to get out than _Thank you_ or _I want to lie here forever_.

 

Yunho laughs, the sound tired and satisfied, and it has Changmin humming with his own contentment.

 

“Some of us aren’t seventeen anymore,” Yunho rolls onto his side, tucking Changmin against him, and the discovery that the Sheriff is one for hugs and soft kisses is delightful, and Changmin greedily takes them all. 

 

“Lazy,” Changmin mutters, curling in closer to Yunho’s chest, but he knows Yunho can feel the way his lips twist into a teasing smile against his collar bone.  

 

“Can you stay?” Yunho asks, unabashed, hand stroking through Changmin’s even messier hair.

 

“For a while,” Changmin replies, “Should leave before the doctor comes back or someone else needs your help.” 

 

“You only need to leave if you want to,” Yunho sounds serious, and Changmin looks up, “I won’t send you away.”

 

“Okay then,” Changmin grins, happiness bright and blinding in his chest, “I’ll stay.” 

 

“Good,” Yunho shifts them around, wrapping his arms around Changmin’s smaller body, “Now sleep. I’ll throw you in jail if you’re going to keep talking.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Changmin mocks with a yawn before dozing off in Yunho’s arms, blissful and safe. 

 

Changmin wakes sticky and dozy with Yunho’s morning erection pressing against his stomach.  Feeling wicked, he licks his palm quietly, trying not to wake the still snoozing man as he wraps his fingers around the length, stroking languid and unhurried. 

 

Yunho wakes with a groan, eyes fluttering open to watch Changmin hungrily. 

 

“I want to go again,” Changmin demands with a swipe of his thumb to the slit of Yunho’s cock.  

 

Fingers press tentatively at his entrance, and Changmin jolts forward against Yunho’s chest with a pant.  

 

“You’re not too sore?” Yunho’s voice is gravelly with sleep and it turns Changmin on more, a neediness building in his chest. 

 

“Again,” he demands grinding his own erection against Yunho’s thigh to prove his point. 

 

With a huffed laugh Yunho rolls them over, pressing Changmin into the mattress on his stomach, cock trapped against the rough blankets.  Two fingers slide into him, and Changmin keens, hips rolling back impatiently.  Just soon enough, Yunho’s cock slides into him, hot and deep, and Changmin relaxes around it, feeling full and pleasantly stretched. 

 

Fucking into him, smooth and steady, Yunho leans down to whisper, “Don’t touch yourself this time, Changmin,” and Changmin growls, but lets Yunho control the ride this time, trying to satisfying himself with rubbing his dick on the scratchy sheets as Yunho thrusts harder, shifting him up the bed. 

 

He doesn’t get away with it.  Yunho pulls him up by the hips with a scoff, “I said no, Changmin,” and he says it with authority and command, and Changmin shivers. If Yunho keeps talking like that, then he won’t need to touch himself.  “Such a good listener,” Yunho croons, fucking into him a little rougher, pressing up and in and leaving Changmin gasping and desperate. 

 

It’s fast and messy, Changmin coming from Yunho’s cock and muttered praises alone, spilling onto the sheets beneath him with Yunho following minutes later.  

 

Changmin stretches lazily on the bed as Yunho goes to find a cloth to clean him up with, and Changmin admires the view of Yunho’s strong thighs and broad shoulders, a little marked up from skirmishes and a hard life, but Changmin thinks he’s beautiful. 

 

The sun creeps in through the east facing window as the minutes pass, and Changmin finally drags himself from bed to get dressed after reveling in Yunho’s sure touches as he cleans off the sweat and come.  Pulling on his clothes with a twisted pout at the rudeness of real life, Yunho catches his mood and chuckles lightly. 

 

“Don’t look so sad, you’ll hurt my ego,” he teases. 

 

Narrowing his eyes, Changmin wonders if Yunho is always this silly.  He hopes so.  “Will I see you again?”

 

“You can see me today if you want,” Yunho smiles, reassuring, and Changmin flushes with satisfaction.

 

“Good,” he turns to hide a grin, feeling a little giddy and overheated at the promise.  

 

“Come here,” Yunho pulls Changmin back around and kisses him again, slow and soft, angling his face up so Changmin can lick into his mouth, a pleased noise caught in the back of Changmin’s throat. 

 

“Yeah, I would very much like to see you today,” Changmin pulls away, a little dazed.  He thinks he could deal with the looks from his father and the tedium of the shop if he has Yunho to look forward to at the end of it all. 


End file.
